


sing for me, baby jailbird

by despitethewives (choirboyharem)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, supermega
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Overstimulation, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28426587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choirboyharem/pseuds/despitethewives
Summary: Matt was torn between knowing that this was entirely his fault and wanting to justify it to the point that none of the blame could be placed on him. He was leaning towards the latter. It was almost twelve AM, he wasn’t in a residential area, he wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t high, and he was barely speeding. Yeah, maybe he’d realized about five minutes ago that he was going almost thirty above the limit, maybe he could’ve slowed down, but he’d been careful. This was all because of the fucking pig that had been napping on the side of the road, just waiting to ticket someone minding their own business.
Relationships: Ryan Magee/Matt Watson
Kudos: 48





	sing for me, baby jailbird

**Author's Note:**

> i hope i am not just an ao3 author to you guys but a degenerate psychopath as well 
> 
> huge warnings for not only extremely dubious consent, but borderline noncon. it's still dubious consent, but the way the acts are described might be triggering for some. tread carefully.

Matt was torn between knowing that this was entirely his fault and wanting to justify it to the point that none of the blame could be placed on him. He was leaning towards the latter. It was almost twelve AM, he wasn’t in a residential area, he wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t high,  _ and _ he was  _ barely  _ speeding. Yeah, maybe he’d realized about five minutes ago that he was going almost thirty above the limit, maybe he could’ve slowed down, but he’d been careful. This was all because of the fucking pig that had been napping on the side of the road, just waiting to ticket someone minding their own business. 

Matt shut his eyes and groaned, dropping his head back against the driver’s seat after he cut the engine. Red and blue flashed incessantly behind him, glinting in the rearview mirror. He heard the cop’s door slam shut and felt his heart sink with a nervousness that he really shouldn’t have been feeling—he wanted to believe that it was just anger. Why should he have been scared of a cop? He had the luxury of not being scared. He was  _ lucky.  _

However, he did not have the luxury of being able to pay seventy-five dollars for a speeding ticket. He did not have the luxury of his parents not constantly breathing down his neck. He did not have the luxury of knowing that he’d still have his car keys when he got home and that he wouldn’t be grounded for a month and his phone wouldn’t be monitored for at least two weeks. 

Maybe that was why he was nervous. Really privileged in the grand scheme of things, but, well. Still. He’d just been un-grounded three weeks ago. He wasn’t ready to endure it again. 

The cop’s keys jingled against his hip as he approached the car. Matt swallowed hard, his hands clenching around the wheel. He practically jumped out of his skin when he heard a tap on the window, a pathetic little cry escaping his mouth. 

Swallowing again, unable to unstick the lump in his throat, Matt rolled the window down. He turned his head, his mouth already stuck in a grimace. 

It faded instantly. He blinked, his lips parting. The cop was… well, he was kind of good-looking.

He was young. Maybe twenty-six, maybe twenty-seven, but it was harder to tell with the beard. His hair was dark, pulled back behind his head in a knot. His eyes were warm and caramel-rich. He was well-built and he looked like he could probably crush Matt’s windpipe in one hand without breaking a sweat. 

“Hey,” the cop said with a sharp grin. “Nice night, huh?”

Matt licked his cracked lips. “Uh, yeah. Sure.” He suddenly felt frantic and hot. His mind running fast enough to burn out whatever shitty processor he had in his skull, he remembered every single porno he’d ever seen, all watched guiltily in the dead of night, his hand between his legs under the covers. 

Matt wasn’t smooth, he couldn’t ever be smooth, but he could exploit his own youth and vulnerability. It wouldn’t be the first time. And he would’ve rather done that than ask his parents to pay a shitty fucking speeding ticket. 

“So what, ah, what am I in trouble for, officer?” Trying to ignore the furious pound of his own heart, Matt reached up to twirl a lock of hair around his finger, his eyes wide and scared. Innocent, he hoped. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong. I just needed to get home.”

“You didn’t know you were doing anything wrong?” the cop said, smirking and tapping his fingers against the driver’s door. “Didn’t realize that you were going almost eighty?”

“No, sir,” Matt said. He was sweating worse than the last time he’d gotten the flu. “I’m sorry. Really.”

“I’m sure you are, kid. You got a driver’s license and registration for me?”

“Yes, sir.” Trying to ignore his trembling hands, Matt searched for the papers in the glove compartment, only remembering after about fifteen seconds that turning the overhead light on would be incredibly helpful. The cop continued to tap out a rhythm against the door. Matt all but shoved the papers at the cop along with his license. 

“Awesome,” the cop chirped, pulling a flashlight from his belt. “Matthew, Matthew Watson. Birth date… Oh, Matthew, Matthew,  _ Matthew,  _ you know you’re not supposed to be driving this late! What are you doing out here? Isn’t it a school day tomorrow? Tsk, tsk.”

“Guess I didn’t notice the time, either,” Matt said with a sheepish grin, wishing he could mentally beat himself unconscious. All because he’d wanted a goddamn Slurpee before bed and he wanted to take a shortcut to the closest 7-Eleven. Maybe this was, in fact, his fault. 

“Do you have permission to be out this late, Matthew?”

“Not—not technically.”

“That’s unfortunate,” the cop said, clicking his tongue, looking back over Matt’s license. “Really unfortunate. How would your parents feel about you being out and driving this late, buddy?”

Matt felt something like real fear curdle and twist his insides. “Please don’t,” he blurted out, forgetting about his already-failing male bimbo act entirely. He couldn’t stomach the idea of getting in trouble so soon again. He had a concert in one week, a dance in two, and countless spur-of-the-moment plans to be made that he wouldn’t have the freedom for anymore. His mother would check his text messages every hour on the hour to make sure he wasn’t getting anybody pregnant or doing hard drugs or going to wild parties or getting AIDS or whatever the fuck she made up in her head about him whenever she had free time. Everything that came out of his mouth now was out of pure panic. “Please, I, I can’t, I can’t afford a ticket and I don’t want them to know about this. Seriously, you don’t understand, I don’t have any privacy and they don’t care about my freedom or my happiness.”

“Aww, Matt, don’t they?” the cop said, pouting. “Is that why you like going on joyrides in their car in the dead of night? You like that little taste of rebellion that you get? Huffing glue in your bedroom in between  _ Fortnite _ matches not doing it for you anymore?” 

“I—it’s not glue,” Matt said helplessly. “I don’t huff  _ glue.” _

“Mm,” the cop replied, infuriatingly indifferent. “Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. That’s none of my business. What  _ is _ my business is what to do about you, you little troublemaker.”

“Don’t give me a ticket,” Matt begged. “Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll give you all the money I’ve got in my wallet right now. You can keep it. You can, like, hit me or something. Get in some brutality for your punch card. Do whatever you want, but don’t give me a ticket. Or call my parents. Or send me to jail,” he added, feeling even weaker thinking about just how little time he’d last in incarceration. “Don’t.  _ Please.” _

“Whatever I want?” the cop asked, raising his eyebrows. “You’re giving me a lot of freedom that I don’t really have, Matt. I’m highway patrol, you know. I couldn’t hurt you if I wanted to.”

“Not even if I had, like, a gun or something?” As soon as the sentence left his mouth, Matt realized how abysmally stupid it was. 

_ “Do _ you have a gun?” 

“Uh. No. No, I don’t. I-I’ve never had a gun. Like, I don’t own one.”

“You don’t sound all too confident in that statement.”

“I swear I don’t have one.”

The cop knocked his knuckles against the side of the open window. “Could you step out of the car for me, please, Matthew?”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh, deadly serious.” 

Matt’s mouth went dry. “...okay,” he whispered, unlocking the driver’s door. The cop gave him a friendly smile as he took a step back. 

It was freezing out. In a windbreaker thrown over his pajamas, Matt shivered, standing awkwardly in the street as the cop tossed Matt’s documents back in the front seat and walked back to his own car, the radio on his shoulder crackling. Matt heard the cop talk into it, bits and pieces that were hard to hear. 

“...I-seventy-seven, this is Magee, five-C-two; false alarm, nothing to report,” the cop said as Matt squinted against the glare of the police car’s headlights, hugging himself as the wind ruffled his hair. “The VASCAR was glitching for whatever reason. I’ll get it checked out tomorrow.”

Matt blinked. False alarm? So he was off the hook? Genuinely? For real?

The cop switched his headlights off and returned to Matt’s car, twirling the strap of his flashlight around his fingers. Despite being a few inches shorter than Matt, he was so much more intimidating, his carefree attitude inexplicably terrifying. “Put your hands on the hood of the car and spread your legs.” 

“But I heard—you said it was a false alarm,” Matt said, the panic rising again. 

“As far as I know right now, it might be, but seeing as how you’re such a dangerous delinquent, it’s reasonable to assume that you could be hiding a gun. I’ve gotta pat you down. Go spread your legs for me, Matthew.”

His cheeks burning, Matt did as he was told, his breath escaping in a shudder between his teeth. It really was too cold out. Especially for this shit. He bent over the car, his head inclined. The time he spent waiting for the cop to touch him felt like much too long. 

“Ryan,” the cop offered, dragging his hand down Matt’s back. 

“What?”

“Officer Ryan Magee, at your service. Now we’re on a first-name basis. That should make you feel a little more comfortable.” Matt felt the heat of the cop’s hand through his jacket and pajama shirt. When it ran down to the base of his spine, Matt felt heat lick through him, his blush worsening. “Do you feel comfortable, Matt?”

“Uh—” Matt had no idea how to answer that. He’d say almost definitely not. “I don’t know.” 

“Maybe it’s because you’re hiding something.” Ryan squeezed Matt’s ass as his hands traveled lower and seemed to linger for far too fucking long. “Are you hiding something from me?”

“No, sir,” Matt choked out. This was weird, wasn’t it? This wasn’t protocol. 

Ryan hummed quietly as he patted Matt’s legs, fingers curling scarily around them. “We’ll see.” His hands traveled back up and slid around Matt’s thighs, fingers pressing into the inseam of his pants. Matt twitched, making a tiny noise in the back of his throat that he tried his hardest to swallow back. 

This wasn’t an accident. The cop was feeling him up. The bimbo shit had worked. Matt felt so much more afraid now than he had earlier, more afraid in a bigger, more unfamiliar way, something almost like guilt settling in his stomach. Guilt and confusion and shame. 

Matt felt a hand in his hair, curling in and refusing to let go. “Knew you were a little fag from the second I saw you,” Ryan murmured, his other hand squeezing Matt’s dick through his pajama pants. “Sure, I can make that ticket go away, but I need to know just how  _ bad _ you want it to go away.”

Matt felt tears jump to his eyes, his breath shaking. “U-um. I. I-I—I want it to go away.” 

“That’s a good boy. Get in the backseat.” Ryan pressed a kiss to the back of Matt’s neck and patted him on the ass before pulling back. Matt very nearly tripped his way over, finding himself extremely uncoordinated in times of losing your virginity to a cop in your own car two hours past curfew. 

Matt hastily kicked his school backpack off the backseat and into the floor of the car. He crammed himself against the far-end passenger door, his heart fluttering and aching. “I’ve never done this before. Ever. Not—not even with a girl.”

“There’s a shocker.” Ryan slammed the door shut behind him, climbing over Matt, heavy and ridiculously warm. “You’re cute, though. Kinda adorable. Big blue eyes, dorky little glasses. Weirdly thick for such a skinny-ass kid. I can’t believe you’re old enough to drive; I thought you were twelve when I pulled you over.” He unzipped Matt’s jacket and reached under the hem of his shirt. His fingers were chapped and still bitten with cold. Matt shuddered and let out a soft whine, twitching in his pajama pants when Ryan curled a hand around the side of his ribcage. 

“So fucking skinny,” Ryan muttered, fingernails scratching lightly over Matt’s chest. “What, are your parents not feeding you? Malnourished little shit. All skin and bone.” He withdrew his hand and slipped it between Matt’s legs instead, palming his cock. Matt felt a stab of mingled pleasure and fear, feeling an instinct to close his thighs, his fingers digging into Ryan’s sleeve just to have something to cling to. 

“I’m just, I’m, like, I’m naturally skinny,” Matt managed. “Are we gonna—? I don’t have any, um, any stuff. Like, n-no condoms or lube or whatever.”

“I’m clean, kid, don’t worry about it.” Ryan tugged at Matt’s loose pants, wrestling them down and pulling them off over his sneakers. “And we don’t need any of that fancy stuff.”

“Fancy stuff?” Matt repeated, his eyes round with terror. “That shit’s not fancy; it’s just gonna keep my asshole from tearing open!” 

“Stop whining, Jesus Christ; you want me to fuck you on silk sheets next? You need candles? Rose petals? Don’t be a baby. You’ll like it.” Ryan spat into his hand, rubbing the saliva between his fingers. “Keep those legs spread.” He dipped his hand back down. Matt squeaked when he felt Ryan rub over his hole, a fresh blush heating him all the way up from his chest to his face. 

“Do you do this a lot?” Matt asked weakly, his body tensing up when one of Ryan’s fingers began to probe him. 

“Depends on what you mean by ‘a lot’.” Ryan pushed a slick, dripping finger inside Matt, burying himself in as far as he could go. Matt gasped and hissed, clenching his teeth.

“Fuck, that hurts.” Matt’s fingers clawed, his nails scraping over Ryan’s arm. “That really—what the fuck, go slower!” he yelped when Ryan started to press a second finger in. “Stop!”

“Look, Matt, I’ve gotta report back to the station in half an hour. I could stop, you know. I could stop right now and just go ahead and fine you for two-hundred dollars for going eighty when you should’ve been going fifty-five. And make sure your license gets taken away for driving all by yourself after six PM. Would you rather I go ahead and do that?”

“No. No, I’m sorry. It’s okay.” Matt sniffled. “Keep going.”

“That’s right.” Ryan began to fuck him smoothly on two fingers. It felt like a burn and a significant intrusion rather than any kind of pleasure. It didn’t exactly  _ hurt, _ but it definitely didn’t feel good. “Just relax. Your body’s gotta accept it at some point.” 

“I’m trying.” Matt couldn’t steady his breathing. Maybe he was having a panic attack. Maybe he’d pass out and then Ryan would stop fingering him.

(Or maybe he wouldn’t. Officer Magee didn’t seem like the most upstanding guy.) 

There was a point where it did start to feel more comfortable. Maybe even kind of nice. Once it didn’t feel like it was stretching him so much, Matt felt himself taking it easier, hearing his own soft little “ah, ah”s whenever he exhaled. On one hand, this was deplorable and he was almost definitely never getting into Heaven because of it, but on the other hand, it was nice not forcing himself to be deathly quiet because he was afraid that his parents and sister would hear him experiencing sexual gratification. 

Ryan curled his fingers when he pulled them back, brushing against a spot inside Matt that suddenly felt so good it made his hips arch up against Ryan’s hand. “Oh, wait, wait, that’s actually—oh, fuck, oh my God.” It was that warm, rising, champagne-flushed feeling he usually only felt right before he was about to come. He found himself holding his dick, his mouth falling open. 

Ryan laughed, rubbing his fingers until Matt cried out, almost contorting. “Told you you’d like it, didn’t I? Doesn’t that feel good?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, I like that. I want—hey,” Matt protested when Ryan pulled his fingers back out. “What the hell?”

“I gotta fuck you at some point. I think you’re ready now.” Ryan straightened up as best he could, unbuckling his belt. 

“You barely got started!”

“You should be so lucky, Matthew. I was absolutely prepared to fuck you dry.” 

Matt rubbed his eyes under his glasses, his dick leaking against his stomach. “Can I ask you something?”

“Maybe.”

“Is this what all gay sex is like? I’m, like, I’m just thinking that maybe my dad was right. About this being an unhealthy lifestyle.” 

“It is,” Ryan said sincerely. “All gay men have to have quickies in the back of their cars because they’re very irresponsible drivers. It’s not Christian of them.” He spat into his palm again, slicking his cock with it. In the low light, Matt couldn’t see much of it, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was going to be much, much, much bigger than a few fingers. 

“How big is it?” Matt asked, his voice a lot smaller than he wished it was. 

Ryan flashed him a grin. “Oh, you’re gonna feel it.” He wrapped his fingers around the base of his dick and Matt felt the head of it press against his swollen hole. Matt blanched, his breath hitching. 

“No, really, how big is it? I can’t, I can’t, I can’t take that, I can’t, I swear, it’s gonna hurt so bad.”

“It’s only nine inches, Matt, Jesus, you’ll be fine.” Ryan gripped Matt’s thigh, pulling him closer. Matt began to feel Ryan sink into him and everything in the world suddenly felt hopeless. 

It was a thousand times worse than just Ryan’s fingers. It was so thick and so unfamiliar, so intimidating; the only word that came to Matt’s mind was  _ “ruthless”. _ Matt choked as Ryan pushed inside him, _ breaking _ him, making his back arch. 

“It hurts, it hurts, fuck, please,” Matt forced out with a sob. Ryan still hadn’t bottomed out. “Stop, it’s gonna fucking kill me, I can’t take it,  _ please.” _

“Shh-shh-shh. You’ll be okay. You’ll be fine.” Ryan just forced himself forward until there was no more space left between them. In all his shame, Matt began to cry openly, so full that he couldn’t even begin to fathom how all of that was able to fit inside him. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks as Ryan pulled back, slow and dragging along Matt’s insides. Matt could feel every inch of it like it was permanently scarring him in places that no one would ever see. 

“Holy fuck, you’re tight.” Ryan stopped for a second, chest heaving, seeming to savor the moment. “You’re fucking tight. You feel so goddamn good.” He reached down to clumsily wipe tears away from Matt’s cheek, swiping over the skin with his thumb. For some reason, his face being cradled made Matt feel marginally better. 

“I-it still—” Matt could barely speak, unable to form a proper sentence in between his stupid fit and the physical exertion. “It—it still hurts.”

“I know it hurts. I know. It’ll feel better soon.” Ryan took a moment to push Matt’s legs up a little higher and take a breath before he started a rhythm, a series of long, lingering thrusts that felt like he was trying to carve Matt’s guts out. 

Matt’s hand launched out and scrambled for purchase on the backseat, clinging to the upholstery. The other grasped a fistful of Ryan’s uniform. He felt like a doll being played with by a kid that was too violent for how fragile it was, his joints being pushed to the limit. He thought it was supposed to be getting easier, but each thrust still felt like the first, fucking him raw and red. Ryan didn’t seem to care. Both his hands came to hook around Matt’s waist, essentially pulling him on and off his cock, manhandling him far too easily. 

Ryan groaned, his hips slamming against Matt. “So fucking small. Fucking perfect.” One particularly rough move left Matt gasping for air. His chest was collapsing. Ryan slid in and out, changed his angle ever so slightly, and then slid back in again. It fucked Matt deeper. He felt it pound that spot inside him again, making his eyes snap back open, a moan escaping from him. 

It didn’t make this feel any less intense. Matt didn’t exactly feel like he’d gotten used to it. It still felt like he was being ripped apart like a cheap teddy bear, but now he had a distraction: genuine pleasure. He barely even recognized his own voice every time Ryan hit his prostate, high-pitched and pleading, a string of vulnerable sounds that made him sound like a girl. Matt thought vaguely that he wasn’t really anything more than that to begin with. Not when he was on his back like this, being used as a warm, wet hole. 

He came so hard and so fast that it stunned him. Matt spilled all over his stomach and chest without touching himself, clenching down hard around the cock in his ass, his nails zippering across the upholstery. He couldn’t tell what he was saying, but it was definitely a slurred, teary mess of pleading and crying, wanting Ryan even closer. 

“Christ, I figured you would’ve lasted a little longer,” Ryan said breathlessly, not even bothering to slow down. In fact, he sped up, fucking up into Matt and drawing his orgasm out to a painful degree. He seemed determined. Matt couldn’t even enjoy his afterglow, the haze petering out almost instantly. 

“Okay, you gotta—you have to stop, it’s, it’s too much.” Matt squirmed on Ryan’s cock, pulling insistently on his uniform. “You have to.”

“I’m not there yet.” Ryan’s heavy, sharp breathing in between each jerk of his hips filled the car along with the sound of skin smacking skin, sticking and pulling apart in rapid succession. Matt wasn’t quite in pain, not really, but it was something like it. He almost wished he was so it could distract him. His dick stirred in spite of the ejaculate surrounding it. Matt let out a broken moan when it spurted pathetically, watery spunk rolling down his stomach. 

By the time it got easy to take, Matt was already broken in. He was fucked out. He was covered in sweat, the hem of his shirt stained with cum, his entire body wracked with exhaustion. Ryan wiped Matt’s cheek again, looking at him with something almost like fondness for a brief second. 

Before Matt could really register it, Ryan began to stop, stuttering and pressing himself flush against Matt. Ryan _ growled, _ a feral sound as he came, and Matt felt him throb. It was hot and wet, flooding through him, and Matt realized that, yes, he still had room left inside him for something like that. He felt it leak out around Ryan’s dick and drip down to where it was almost definitely going to ruin the backseat. 

Matt’s hand shook as he brushed his stringy bangs out of his eyes. His chest finally began to rise and fall at a normal rate, his fingers relaxing their grip on Ryan’s uniform. He wasn’t often speechless (as his sister would be quick to point out), but he genuinely didn’t know what to say. He felt like it should’ve been something, but his tongue was fuzzy and too heavy in his mouth. 

Ryan exhaled and pulled out of him. Matt winced and made a sound like a drowned kitten when he felt himself leak, fluttering with the loss and the missing heat. He couldn’t even imagine what he looked like right now. He was dirty. Sickeningly, unbearably dirty. 

“Took it like a champ.” Ryan leaned down and gave him a brief kiss. The first kiss he’d ever gotten from another man. Matt didn’t even have time to savor it, longing for it even as Ryan sat back up. 

“So…” Matt readjusted his glasses. “...does that mean you won’t give me a ticket?”

Ryan simply beamed at him, opening the passenger door. “Who says I won’t?” 

Matt blinked in disbelief. “You’re fucking with me, right? Like, you’re not serious? You’re not still giving me a ticket after that, right?”

“Depends on whether or not you keep your mouth shut. You can do that for me, right?”

Matt nodded. It was starting to get way too cold in the car and he needed a shower. Fuck the Slurpee, fuck 7-Eleven. He needed a fucking shower. And Ambien. 

“You’re a good kid, Matt. Stay outta trouble, okay? Don’t talk to strangers and don’t go out speeding, especially not after six PM. I want you to remember that I know where you live. Can you remember that?”

Matt nodded again. Could he even do anything else?

“Alright. I want you to head on home.” Ryan snatched his belt off the floor of the car before slamming the door shut. “Stay on the straight and narrow,” he reminded Matt before disappearing, heading back to his cruiser. 

Matt let his head drop down against the backseat, staring at the black roof above him until the nothingness became static in his vision. Now that he thought about it, since he was already out, what would it hurt going to get the Slurpee after all? People walked into 7-Eleven in broad daylight looking a thousand times worse than him every single day. 

He’d just give himself anywhere between two minutes to two hours before he’d force himself to try and sit up again. 


End file.
